A lot has been said in recent years about the death of the cookbook – the blithe assumption being that, with 43,500,000 chocolate brownie recipes online, no one could possibly need any more in print. Happily for those of us who write these books, there are several problems with this idea, not least of which is that, if you only Google dishes you already know, you’ll never stumble across treasures such as the truly magnificent Princess Surprise Bombe in Regula Ysewijn’s stunning history of British puddings from spotted dick to syllabub, Pride and Pudding(Murdoch). Gorgeously photographed by Ysewijn herself, and meticulously researched, it’s one to pore over in bed as well as in the kitchen, and that’s not something you can say about many websites. Or at least, not the ones I tend to visit.

A good cookbook can open up entire worlds – a chance encounter with author Caroline Eden in an Edinburgh bookshop this spring led to one of my favourite finds of the year, Samarkand (Kyle), a collection of recipes and stories from Central Asia and the Caucasus, co-written with Eleanor Ford, and, like Ysewijn’s book, chock-full of fascinating stories and pictures as well as intriguingly unfamiliar flavours. Similarly, Sumayya Usmani’s evocative culinary memoir of her native Pakistan, Summers Under the Tamarind Tree(Frances Lincoln) made me realise how embarrassingly little I knew of the ancestral cuisine of so many Britons – a gap in knowledge I’m very much enjoying filling, particularly with railway mutton curry.

Brad McDonald’s chicken is brined and marinated for several days before cooking. Photograph: Elena Heatherwick for the Guardian

Almost as novel were the flavours in Brad McDonald’s Deep South(Quadrille), a book of “new southern” cooking. Featuring the buttery cornbread and shrimp and grits his London restaurant is famous for, as well as whole chapters on pickles, cured meats and a tomato pie, it was my hit of the summer. Chefs don’t always make the best cookbook writers – what works in a professional kitchen may not translate well to the domestic sphere – but Toast Hash Roast Mash (Octopus), the second book from Dan Doherty, chef director at London’s sky-high, 24-hour Duck & Waffle, is all about the boldly flavoured comfort food Doherty says he makes at home. Preferably cooked with an egg on top for good measure, it’s mouthwatering stuff.

More big flavours from one of my favourite cookery writers, the wonderful Diana Henry. Simple (Octopus) is her 10th book, and one of her very best; beautifully written and endlessly inventive, it would make a great gift for anyone interested in good food with minimal effort (ie just about anyone). More simple but delightful ideas debut, Just Soup (Short), which accords this undervalued foodstuff new respect. From hearty African peanut to tangy Iranian herb and pomegranate, it has got me more excited about liquid lunches than I thought possible (and not just because my perfect chicken soup is in there, too).

Meera Sodha’s recipes harvested from her Gujarati-British family are colourful and joyous. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Observer

The “clean eating” trend has continued apace this year. I can’t in all conscience recommend giving anything so fundamentally joyless as a present, but instead offer up some great vegetarian books, starting with the colourful and joyous Fresh India (Fig Tree) by Meera Sodha, a collection of recipes harvested from her Gujarati-British family and drawing on the rich vegetarian tradition of India. The Keralan brussels sprout stir fry alone will make your Christmas. Alice Hart’s The New Vegetarian (Square Peg) is more wide ranging but equally enticing – almond-stuffed vine leaves is the closest it comes to a nut roast – and would make the perfect gift for anyone who would like to reduce their meat consumption in 2017, as would Georgina Hayden’s quietly lovely debut cookbook, Stirring Slowly (Square Peg), which, though not strictly vegetarian, is as big on the vegetables, grains and pulses as it is on the meat.

Surprisingly, Harry Eastwood’sCarneval (Bantam), which bills itself as a “celebration of meat, in recipes”, is in fact the most thoughtful treatise on meat eating that I’ve read for a long time. After the recent crop of aggressively carnivorous publications, it’s refreshing to be urged to eat less but better. (That said, looking at the recipes, you’ll need self-control.)

Finally, as someone who enjoys reading about food almost as much as cooking it, I’d highly recommend settling down with a glass of sherry and Tom Nealon’s fascinating and copiously illustrated book of culinary history, Food Fights and Culture Wars (British Library), which explores the idea that hunger has defined the march of human civilisation. Just the thing to work up an appetite for Christmas dinner.

• Felicity Cloake’s The A-Z of Eating: A Flavour Map for the Adventurous Cook is published by Fig Tree. Save at least 30% on this year’s critics’ choices when you buy at the Guardian Bookshop. Visit bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Support the Guardian and its journalism with every book you buy this Christmas. *Free UK p&p for online orders over £10. Minimum £1.99 p&p applies to telephone orders.